


A Lesson in Pride

by PsychoMIME



Category: Original Work
Genre: Furry, Honor, Hunters & Hunting, LARPing, Original Character(s), Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoMIME/pseuds/PsychoMIME
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A warrior learns a lesson in Pride and Honor</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lesson in Pride

That’s nothing.  
You cubs think that the pink skins are easy prey.  They’re born without fur, without claws and without fangs.  My pride thought the same thing.

We were all cubs born around the same time from different tribes, but we bonded as soon as we met around a fire and drums, much like this one.  Ngala was our leader, large and fearless and suggested we call ourselves that: a Pride.

And we were proud.  To prove that we were warriors, we would ambush pink skins and butcher them all.  We would sneak into their villages and slaughter them while they slept.  We thought we were invincible.  No one could touch us.  We became overconfident.  I guess that’s what happens when you trust a lion.

We set out to raid another one of their villages.  My job was to take down any of those that tried to run.  The rest just charged in, their armour and blades covered in trophies of our previous raids.  By the time they reached the town centre, they knew something was wrong.  At this point the villagers would be the running for their lives.  Their blood dripping from our blades onto ground, the puddles of blood growing bigger as more and more it was shed.  Tonight, there was no slaughter.

Instead there was fire.  A ring of fire leapt up around them, trapping them where they stood, surrounding them with a wall of flames. Then like a swarm of angry hornets, the arrows came down. They bit into armour and flesh and the mighty warriors fell.  Ngala was the last to fall, he leapt over the flames with a mighty roar.  He took down three of them; he buried his blade in one’s head, ripped out another’s throat with his bare claw, as the battle lust overtook him, he wrestled one to the ground and sunk his teeth into it’s neck.  They focused their arrows on him and when he fell, he resembled a porcupine from all the arrows in his back.

He died a warrior.

It was then that they spotted me and I knew I would not be able to avenge my pride mates if I stayed and fought.  I head deeper and deeper into the forrest, higher and deeper into mountains.  I would lay down a trail and double back.  As the days wore on they never gave up.  There were five of them and I got to know them well.

One-eye was the leader, his black hair the colour of night and the scar ran across his face, left his one eye the pale like the moon.  The Mountain, he was tall and built like a rock wall, with a hammer that even a Sarr warrior would struggle to lift.  The twins, they looked like each other and moved and fought like one.  Lastly there was the Mouse, he was small, but he was their eyes and by far the best tracker of the lot, more importantly he carried a bow. That’s why he died first.

I needed food and had bought myself a respite and lead them to the river.  I watched from above as they took the false trail I left.  One-eye seemed to feel they could follow it on their own and sent the Mouse of to hunt.  When he was far enough from his friends, focussed on his hunt, I dropped on him from above and snapped his neck.  I ate the hare he brought down and left his body where they could find it, along with a trail a blind ox could follow.

Without the Mouse they never spotted the trip wire.  One-eye ducked and rolled underneath the log that swung down between two trees.  The Mountain was not so lucky, the sound his back made as it snapped, echoed through the forest and let me know that even one as imposing as him, is just a man.  The log carried his body as it completed its arc and threw him aside like a doll.

I lead them further deeper and higher into the mountains.  They became more careful and began noticing my traps.  They learned.  No matter how smart they got however, this game of ours had lasted more than a week and it was beginning to show.  I killed the one twin, when he got up to take a piss, while standing guard one night.  I placed his blades on his comrade’s chests while they slept, showing them that I could’ve killed them where they lay.

By the next next day, I had lead them so far up that snow crunched under their boots and the North Wind howled at them for daring to enter his domain.  My fur blended into the terrain, my confidence grew, there were only two left and now everything was in my favour.  With that I set my ambush…

I waited patiently in the snow-covered clearing.  The wind tickled my whiskers and my ears perked up as they stomped up following the path.  I closed my paw around my blade as they moved past, trying to spot my hiding place, my body still and my breath shallow.  The remaining twin turned his back, I stood up, stepped in from the side his brother had always covered and drew my blade across his neck.  The red blood staining the crisp snow on the ground.

One-eye spun around to face me, a growl escaped his lips.  I smiled and let his last comrade’s lifeless body drop to my feet.  He raised his round wooden shield, covered in marks from countless battles, the design underneath unrecognisable. and readied his blade.  I drew my second blade and lowered my gaze.  “They were my brothers,” I growled at him.  “So were they,” he snarled back.

I closed the distance to him, brought blow after blow down on him.  The rhythm on his shield was like a war drum urging me on, forcing him back towards the edge of the cliff.  Suddenly he stopped and smashed the shield into my face; the blood streamed down and he came forward, his blade moving like a serpent, following my every move, striking at any weakness.  I blocked every blow and soon enough I could feel the cliff behind me looming over me.  If he back me up to it he would finish me off, so I spun around, ran it it and continued to run up the cliff face, until I could go no further, curled into a ball and launched myself over his head.  I rolled and pulled myself into a crouching position.  Lightheaded from the blood still streaming from my nose, I noticed that my blood trail speckled the snow.  A loud roar followed his shield that smashed into me again and sent me sprawling.  My blade tumbling over the edge; I lay there at his mercy.  He stepped up, raised his blade and brought it down.  I twisted away at the last moment, his blade sent the gravel where my head was cascading down below.  Crouched low, I locked eyes with him, readied my claws, bared my fangs as we began circling each other.  My ears perked up, I raised my claws and backed away, flattening myself against the cliff face.  He blinked and looked confused for a moment, his dull senses hearing the same rumble and he followed suit.

The avalanche rolled over us; I lost track of time and began to claw my way out.  My face broke into the sunlight, only to see One-Eye standing over me, his blade pointed at me.  The rage burning in his eyes, he raised his sword and brought it down.

The pain told me I was still alive.

My vision was blurry and I could make him out as he walked away, leaving me as I pulled myself free from the snow.

One-eye’s hair is now the colour of ash, so is my pelt and we have lead numerous raids against each other.  He taught me the lessons that made me the warrior I am today.  Never let your pride rule your actions.  Never underestimate any opponent and always honour another warrior, no matter the body he was born into.


End file.
